


A Man of Virtue

by GRtheS



Series: Know Your Own [2]
Category: Luke Cage (TV)
Genre: F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9424994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GRtheS/pseuds/GRtheS
Summary: Mariah's taken on a larger role at Harlem's Paradise, but still refuses any involvement with the "other" business. Shades takes her on a nostalgic field trip that just might change her mind.





	1. Chapter 1

Shades had always been patient. He'd spent the first seven years of his life waiting for his father to come home. Many nights thereafter at his mother’s side, waiting for her to regain consciousness. Two months for his arm to heal after a failed attempt at framing his dad for shoplifting. Three weeks for Mama Mabel to make good on her promise. Six months of tracking his inconsolable mother down in dark alleys and random trap houses. Two years before he gave up hoping she’d come back.

 

The first fourteen years of his life provided all the lessons he’d needed to navigate this world. Tenacity, resolve, and cunning had been his by birthright; caution had been hard-earned. He’d learned not to push too hard, to go with the flow. That sometimes, malleability was the greatest show of strength.

 

And there was no one he’d sooner bend for than Ms. Mariah Dillard. 

 

It was midnight at Harlem’s Paradise. They’d closed for a private event which had ended earlier than expected. Shades perched on the couch arm in the office, staring at the window overlooking the empty club. Mariah was hard at work, poring over various statements and fudging numbers in the club’s accounting software. She’d initially rejected hands-on involvement in Cornell’s businesses - leaving Shades to his own devices - but the ghost of Mama Mabel kept calling out to her, urging her to take hold of her legacy. She figured overseeing the club was a safe middle ground, allowing her to rehabilitate its tarnished reputation and keep a close eye on the finances. She promised herself she’d go no further. 

 

Shades stealthily watched her reflection, enthralled. The pale glow of the computer screen danced across her lips as she muttered to herself. How did money laundering, the least sexy item in the compendium of criminal activity, look damn near pornographic in her hands? She was capable of more, so much more, if only she’d allow herself.

 

He shifted in his seat, half-heartedly willing away his growing excitement. Alone with her and no distractions, he couldn’t resist rewriting their history in his mind. Every opened door had been an opportunity to taste the side of her neck. He’d wanted to pull her close when she tried to slap him in her living room. Drop to his knees and devour her after her bout with the speaker. He imagined pressing her against the bar and burying himself deep inside her with Cornell’s body lying ten feet away. If she’d allowed it. If she’d demanded it.

It was hard to untangle all the Mariah-inspired feelings swelling within his chest. Awe, pride, respect. Depravity. Fear. It wasn’t normal; he’d never felt this way in his life and he was fucking terrified. Of losing focus, of falling too deep, of messing it up. So he remained measured, deliberate, calm, and, most of all, patient. Whatever he needed to be to keep from exploding.

Mariah mercifully snapped him out of his thoughts. “Shades. Did you hear me?” He hadn’t. He turned to face her, unwilling to betray that he’d been somewhere else. 

“I said you can leave. The boys are gone and it’s going to take me another hour to make this extra four hundred k look like legitimate income.”

“I’m good.” He unconsciously straightened up.

“I’m not; you’re making me nervous.” She nodded towards the window. "Is someone out there?”

“No.”

“Is tomorrow’s deposit locked up?”

“Yes.”

“Then go. Have some fun.” She gave him the once over. “Or some rest.”

“You say the books get done tonight, I say I stay until the books are done. Check your math” he shrugged..

He pointedly turned his attention downstairs in an effort to end the conversation. Their eyes locked in the window’s reflection. Busted. Had she known he’d been staring all along?

She smirked. “What, are you worried?” She rose from her seat and sauntered towards him. “Because I know these streets better than anybody." She traced her fingers along his jawline. All evidence of Diamondback’s assassination attempt had faded, but the attack was obviously still fresh in Shades’ mind. "Especially him.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“What is it, then?” She playfully pushed against his chest. A sly grin spread across his face, he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, silently goading her to continue. 

Not the reaction she was looking for. For someone so solemn, he was always fucking smiling. She rolled her eyes and started back towards her desk. 

Shades caught her hand. The dark marks on her arm were impossible to ignore. She’d done a press conference that morning, flanked by the speaker and several other councilmembers, announcing her return to her post. She’d gone sleeveless for the occasion, proudly displaying the bruises like a badge of honor, daring Langford to cross her again.

Fuck, she was smart.

 Off her dangerous glare, he loosened his grasp, but wasn’t prepared to let go. “Where are you going?”

“I tell you to leave, you won't do that. Now I’m practically throwing it at you and-“

“Believe me, I’m catching it.”

“Then do something.”

“What do you want me to do?” He gently ran his thumb along her now clenched fist.

Exasperated, she snatched her hand back and headed towards her desk.

"Do you want me to fuck you against the window?"

Mariah whipped around so fast, stunned. Had he just said that? Shades regarded her plainly. It was bold, perhaps too bold but he was slowly realizing that while Mariah liked to lead, she also appreciated a little push from time to time.

He leaned in. “On your desk? Beneath the Basquiat?” He wasn’t smiling this time.  _Because that’s what I want._

She pursed her lips, mulling over the question. “No.”  _Maybe_.

She cocked her head and slowly looked him up and down. “Tell me.”

“Anything” he exhaled.

“What’s the most you’d pay for bottle service?”

Shades blinked, trying to regain his bearings. “What?”

Mariah was back in work mode. “I need a price that’s ridiculous, but still plausible.”

He narrowed his eyes, not at all interested in playing along. “For the good shit, two thousand. Maybe more if the bottle girls are hot.” He couldn’t resist throwing that dig in.

Mariah cut her eyes at him and dove back into the books. Shades leaned in, not even trying to hide his staring.

“You can go.” She clacked away without bothering to look in his direction.

“Okay.” Shades rose from his perch, marched to Mariah’s desk, and turned off the monitor. Mariah sputtered in protest.

“Let’s go.” He extended his hand to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it.

 

This was something.


	2. Chapter 2

The last place Mariah expected to find herself was the A train. It had been years since she'd visited Brooklyn, even longer since she’d taken public transportation, save for the occasional photo op. She didn’t want to touch or examine anything too closely.

 

“You sure you don’t want to sit?”

 

Shades stretched out comfortably in a seat nearby. He’d had to offer his gloves just to coax her into the station. Mariah glared at him. She certainly wouldn’t be joining him down there. She cringed at the thought of his well-tailored suit absorbing the fluids, grime, and funk of every day New York life. Harlem to Brooklyn life. Mariah had seen enough on this route to fill a lifetime of nightmares.

 

“Long ride to Bed Stuy,” he teased.

 

Shades could barely contain his grin. She looked so cute, primly clutching the pole, hands ensconced in comically oversized leather gloves, looking as if she’d never taken the train a day in her life. Her feet, however, told a different story. Squared and firmly planted, hers was the stance of an experienced rider.

 

“So there is a destination,” she sniffed. “I was starting to think you dragged me out just to see me squirm.”

 

“And what if I had?”

 

“Then you’d be disappointed.”

 

“I don’t think I would.” Since he’d known her all she’d ever done was exceed expectations.

 

He leaned in, getting a little serious. “You know if you were to take a more active role in the business, you might have to ride the train from time to time. Nothing draws more unnecessary attention than a motorcade.” 

 

“I’m aware.” “Does that interest you?”

 

Mariah scoffed. “Getting a Metrocard?”

 

“Heading up the business. The **business** business.”

 

“That’s not the right move for me right now.”

 

“What happened to reaching across the aisle?”

 

“What you’re suggesting is far more than a reach; it’s a move completely to the other side.”

 

“It’d be like politics, but with actual results. Make some deals, Right some wrongs, give back to the community." His eyes were practically on fire; he was starting to get carried away. "Imagine what you could accomplish-”

 

“ **Shades.** ”

 

There was enough warning in her voice to shut him up. For now. She tried to wrap her mind around simultaneously wanting someone to disappear and wanting him closer.

 

He pondered all the things they could do together...on the train and otherwise.

 

They rode the rest of the way in silence, eyes fixed on each other, both lost in thought.


	3. Chapter 3

The ride was long, but the walk from the train was thankfully brief.

 

As soon as they’d emerged from the station, Mariah produced a vial of hand sanitizer and squirted some into her palm. “Me, too.” Shades ran his hand over hers, scooping up some for himself, breaking the tension. She laughed as they both massaged the gel into their hands. It was childish. Cornell used to snake lotion from her the same way, always from her hands, never from the bottle. She could never determine whether he thought the things she’d touched were somehow better or if he just liked to take from her. Now she wondered those things about Shades.

 

“We’re here.”

 

Mariah looked up at the glowing sign looming over her. “Oh God, the Mortar? What do you know about this place?”

 

“I know Monday nights, they had the hottest R&B acts to grace the stage outside of Harlem.”

 

“You had to have been a baby. We always had to sweet talk the doorman into letting our underaged butts in.”

 

"Trying to peep through the windows beat the hell out of spending a drunken Monday night football with my old man.”

 

Mariah's eyes flickered with recognition. She'd made her own point to vacate the house on Monday nights. And nearly every other night. Any time there was an occasion for Uncle Pete to drink.

 

Shades swung the club door open, instantly transporting Mariah back in time. The summer after high school graduation, she, Claudette, and Linda practically lived at the place: sweating their presses out, grooving to the music. Conning drinks out of grown men, courting trouble.

 

Somehow, Mama Mabel caught wind of her nighttime activities and they had a knock-down, drag-out fight. It was ugly. Mabel had actually slapped her, the first and only time she’d ever laid hands on her niece. Enraged, Mariah picked up a crystal bowl and smashed in onto the ground. Mabel gave her the strangest look, almost impressed. She clucked disapprovingly. “Baby girl, that was gonna be yours one day.”

 

“I don’t care,” Mariah screeched petulantly.

 

Mabel was on her in a flash, yoking her up, gripping her by her shoulders.“Look at me. Look at me! Do not allow your anger to put your legacy at risk. You will not go back there. Do you understand?”

 

Chastened, Mariah relented. “Yes, ma’am." At the time, she meant it.

 

Shades eyed Mariah as she brushed past him in a daze, entering the club. Many nights, he’d seen her at the front door, hoping that she and her friends would be turned away. That they’d be forced to join him on the sidewalk. In the shadows.

 

Today, he was finally on the other side of that door. With her. Seemed like they were both traveling back in time.

 

He crept up behind her, took her coat, and muttered in her ear. “Would you believe this place has been a front for one of New York's biggest drug rings for the last fifty years?”

 

Just like that, the spell was broken. _Back to reality, Mariah._ She took quick stock of her surroundings: no drink menu, an inconsistent cover charge, and a row of slot machines in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. As she and Shades took their seats at a table, she took note of the peeling paint and thinning carpets.

 

The Mortar’s best days were behind it, but the memories, especially the people, were fresh in her mind: Joe, the charming, always smiling proprietor and his son, Earl.Earl had always been so fine and so friendly, sneaking them into the artists green room, making the girls feel like VIP. Treating them to the occasional drink and other substances. Being a good girl, Mariah would never partake of anything harder than a fruity cocktail, but she couldn’t say the same for poor Claudette, wherever she was.

 

After her fight with Mama Mabel, Mariah had tried to go back - Chaka Khan was playing that night - but after Linda and Claudette easily slipped past the velvet rope, she was stopped. The doorman actually tried to turn her away, but she wasn’t having it. Mariah raised all kinds of hell that night. It took Joe, himself to calm her down. It wasn’t anything he said really, or even anything he did, it was his face. Gone was the easy smile to which she’d grown so accustomed; it had been replaced by a grimace that grew more pained with each step he took. Determined, he limped out to her and leveled her with look that said it all: someone had done him great harm. Someone she knew.

 

He didn’t need to say anything else, but he did. “Baby girl, go home.”

 

She didn’t go back after that. Not until today.

 

As if on cue, Joe's son Earl appeared, looking as fine as ever after all these years. Mariah watched as he held court: charming a small crowd with what was sure to be a captivating tale, flashing them his dazzling smile, sending them into fits of laughter. The years had been kind to him. Mariah felt a familiar flutter in her chest.

 

Without so much as a look at Shades, she informed him, “I’m going to go dance.” It was not an invitation. He watched her step onto the dance floor and fall right into the groove. She was completely in her element. Some people recognized her and cheered her on. Soon she blended into the pulsing crowd.

 

Mariah couldn’t see him anymore, but she certainly felt Shades’ eyes on her. She didn’t care. The first notes of “Before I Let Go” rang out and she threw her hands up and swayed like she was the only one in the room. A pair of hands gripped her waist and she felt a man’s body press against hers, matching her step for step. It was only when the other club goers started excitedly pointing in her direction that she bothered to learn her dance partner’s identity. She looked over her shoulder to find Earl behind her. “Hey, Miss Mariah,” he sing-songed in her ear. She smiled and patted his cheek as he nuzzled his face into her neck. He smelled so fucking good. He spun her ‘round and the two rocked and grooved through the end of the song, earning applause from the crowd.

 

He led her outside to the patio where they collapsed on a love seat. She fanned herself, trying to cool down. "I haven’t moved like that in years"

 

"Could have fooled me."

 

"Trust me, I’ll be paying for it in the morning."

 

They laughed. He waved over a server who set two drinks on the table in front of them.

 

“Blue Hawaiian. Your old favorite.”  _Emphasis on old._ They clinked glasses.

 

Mariah took a polite sip. “So all of this is yours now?

 

“My daddy left me everything. Assets and debts.” Earl leaned in, sincere. “Listen, Mariah, I want to apologize for the way things went down back then.”

 

“Do you mean banning me from the club or trying to get me hooked on smack?”

 

He wasn't expecting that. “Come on, you know it wasn't like that. I would never do that to you."

 

_But to my friends?_

 

"Besides, Mama Mabel made an honest man out of me."

 

 _And a crook out of me._ She smiled ruefully. “Looks like we both inherited the family business.”

 

“I was so sorry to hear about Cornell.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“He was a good kid.”

 

Mariah took another sip of her drink, grimacing at the syrupy sweetness.

 

“You know I never forgot about you. I been watching you all these years, doing your political thing. I’m proud of you.”

 

“You know us Stokes: got to represent.”

 

"Always."

 

They shared a smile.

 

He took her hand in his, inched a little closer. “Do you think I could i see you sometime?”

 

She took a deep breath; his scent was far more intoxicating than anything the bar had to offer. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

 

“You’re just as beautiful as ever.” He began caressing her hand, slowly making his way further up her arm. Mariah shivered, sensing a second set of eyes on her. She looked over her shoulder, Earl followed her gaze: there was Shades, leaning in the doorway. 

 

 _Who's this asshole?_ Mariah sighed, gave Earl an apologetic look, and cooly extricated herself from his grasp. “I’d better go.”

 

The two men nodded at each other in acknowledgement -  _I see you -_ as Earl stood to tenderly hug and kiss her goodbye.

 

Mariah headed back inside, brushing past Shades. He followed. There was a little extra swagger in his step.

 

“Someone’s got a crush.” He called after her.

 

She shot him a pointed look. “Some **one**?”

 

He laughed, damn near blushed. She had him there.

 

Back on the train, Mariah stood, leaning against the pole. It was that weird time of night when everyone else in the world was already where they'd planned to be. They had the whole car to themselves. Shades sat nearby, staring at her from behind his glasses. Mariah eyed the seat beside him and he slid over to make room.

 

“He was an old friend.” To Shades’ surprise, instead of taking the seat, she perched on his lap instead, steadying herself with a hand against his chest. She slowly removed his sunglasses - she wanted to see him - and kissed him softly. Wherever she was going, he was on board, moving his hands to her sides as the kiss intensified.

 

Mariah abruptly broke away. “He used to pressure girls to try his product, get them hooked. He tried it with me.” She peered at him, looking to see if he was surprised. He wasn't.

 

Mariah swiveled in his lap, turning her back to him. She tapped the side of her neck and, ever so obedient, hehappily began to kiss her everywhere his lips could reach.

 

“Did you know that?” There was a looming threat in her voice. He hesitated. She gripped his thighs and pressed herself against his growing hardness. That was one way to get an answer.

 

"Yes," he gasped, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't let up.

 

“My best friend, he ruined her life.” She planted her feet and began rolling her hips.

 

 _Fuuuuck._  This was unbearable. Shades slid his hands along the sides of her thighs and tugged at her dress, trying desperately to yank it up past her hips.

 

She took his arms and wrapped them back around her waist

 

“Uh-uh. Just you.” She bucked against him for good measure. He groaned in agony.

 

“I loved him and he betrayed me." She adjusted, nestling him between her cheeks and rolling back and forth across the length of his erection. He was beside himself. With one hand gripping her hip, Shades snaked the other around to cup her breast, pinching her nipple through her dress. It was her turn to gasp. Breath ragged, Mariah soldiered on, determined to make her point.

 

"I’m going to destroy him." Mariah bore down, clenching her ass and squeezing him through his slacks.

 

A jolt of electricity shot through Shades and Mariah both and he let out a low, guttural moan. All senses abandoned him as he went crashing over the edge. He squeezed her tight Mariah tight.

 

Touchwas the first sense to return. He pressed his forehead against  her back and ran his hands all over. Her neck, her shoulders. The small of her back. Hips, thighs. This was real. This had happened. would happen again. She leaned back, resting her head against his shoulder. He buried his chin in the crook of her neck.

 

She picked up his sunglasses and toyed with them, thinking. “I’m in.”

 

"Yeah?" He choked out a laugh, exhaling for what felt like the first time in hours.

 

This had been worth the wait.

 

 


End file.
